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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27861321">Eyes Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artac13/pseuds/Artac13'>Artac13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Destiny (Video Games), RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Destiny but RWBY, I mean, I swear, Just Bear With Me, Multi, OOPS written before Beyond Light so the Exo stuff is a bit outdated at this point lmao, One Shot Collection, Vanguard dares can have some fun consequences, all my homies love solar striker, eventually, faunus are awoken, figuring out the exotics and classes was simultaneously the most and least fun thing i've ever done, fuck subclass damage type restrictions, i wrote the entire first chapter in my econ class so, let exos eat dammit, oof, there isn't much else to say, there will be actual ship content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:34:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27861321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artac13/pseuds/Artac13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots taking place in a RWBY version of the Destiny universe. They're not necessarily in order, but they're all interconnected and will feature many of the same characters. I'll literally just add to this whenever I feel like it. :)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Neopolitan/Ruby Rose (RWBY)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Breath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ruby Rose remembers the first time she died. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hates the way her father and sister look at her, sneaking sideways glances when they think she’s not looking, sadness in their eyes. She hates the way all her sleeves end up bloodstained, sprays like shrapnel from the sharp sting in her throat. She hates the tone of the doctors when they speak to her, low and soft like they’re speaking to a scared child. She’s not a child. She hasn’t been that for a long time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she weighs and compares her options and says goodbye to Jaune because she knows that out of everyone, he’ll understand. She signs the papers as she stares past all the legal jargon and misleading sentences to the meaning that sits coils through it all like a rattlesnake. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We own you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it says, tail shivering in deadly warning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Welcome.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leaves a note that could have been longer, and leaves the next morning. The flight (though she struggles to call it that, as her definition of “flight” usually involves staying in-atmosphere) isn’t that long. Earth to the Moon, and then comes the body-tensing experience of a jump to Jupiter’s orbit. Then her eyes are on it. Europa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s lights. Beeping.  Voices from doctors and someone in a suit. The mask descends and there’s a sickly sweet smell, and then the bright white of the room fades to black.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In between minds, she dreams. The Traveler in flames over a city she does not know. Pyramids under a burning sun that eats the sky, teeth in ice. A girl in a halo of fire stands over a broken figure (She doesn’t know how, but Ruby knows she would rather die than move). A blooming explosion, expanding in the shape of flowers, if flowers were made of rage and screamed like nails on a chalkboard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she wakes, her body isn’t her own. She moves and adjusts to the sound of shifting metal and carbon, but she’s never cared so little, because she feels so </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The doctors come back now, poking and prodding and running statistics but she doesn’t care, because when she moves there’s no pain, and her breathing, for all the good it does, feels as painless as it did before her mother died. And of course, this is when everything goes horribly wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>First there’s a low rumble in the air, like the subwoofer of a passing car plus an earthquake, and then multiplied by gravity and beamed directly into her brain. She hears a scream somewhere, and the gravelly silence breaks like glass, and the klaxons are suddenly blaring in warning, and the intercom is saying something but she doesn’t know what because she is </span>
  <em>
    <span>running</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She doesn’t remember when her feet started moving, but the fear bubbling up in her is black and cold and she’s never felt anything like this before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The snow is cold, and the sky is darker than anything she’s ever seen and there are no stars and the tower stands behind her (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Crypt</span>
  </em>
  <span>, her mind says, like a reinforcing wall against total breakdown. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It will be a crypt</span>
  </em>
  <span>). The image of a pyramid comes unbidden to her mind and there’s a hissing sound like air escaping a balloon and the world spins. The bodies around her are half-buried in the snowdrifts and the low thrum returns but she just can’t let go of the first thing she saw because </span>
  <em>
    <span>there are no stars</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then there’s no anything. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t remember being inside when she died, but the end was always fuzzy. Either way, that’s where she wakes up, cold steel screaming with an eon of disuse. The wind howls outside, though she can’t help thinking that it is so stressfully silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s called a Ghost, or so it says. It’s what brought her back. She says thanks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No problem</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just doing my job</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanders the facility, mind drowned in thought. When she looks up, her feet seem to have brought her to a small storage room. There, in the corner, stands a small locker. </span>
  <em>
    <span>R. Rose</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the tag reads. It’s locked, but she inserts a cold finger and tugs and the lock snaps like a pencil. Inside there’s just her clothes, and a bag filled with electronics that probably haven’t worked in hundreds of years, but it’s better than nothing. She pulls on the dark red hoodie, which is in surprisingly good condition, and then becomes very aware of the absence of tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Ghost says they need a ship, and she’s inclined to agree. Though as far as she can tell, she’s the only living thing on this ice cube of a moon (although whenever she says as much, the Ghost (which she’s decided to call Crimson, noting the beautiful red of its shell) looks nervous but doesn’t contest her, like denying the statement will attract attention. She leaves it be), she would like to leave. The facility she’s in is only so large, and the halls get repetitive after a while.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes several days, but just to be on the safe side, she makes a gun. Her mechanical knowledge is a little rusty, and her materials are… sub-par (to say the least), but Crimson helps a bit, finding the materials she can’t scrounge up and recording the schematics. When it’s done, she doesn’t think she’s ever been more proud. It’s a rifle, long and sleek and made for ending life, and when it fires it sounds like a garden. She calls it Crescent Rose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They find what could be passed off as a ship in a dock about a week later, hull falling apart at the seams, but the engine’s in working order and the jump drive, Crimson informs her, is beautifully preserved. They get everything fired up, and she makes sure she’s ready to leave. She packs the hold, transmats inside, and greenlights. And they’re off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They float in orbit for a bit while Crimson makes calculations for the jump to Earth. Ruby takes the time to stargaze. Europa hangs below, cold and white, scientific paradise turned tomb. Behind it, Jupiter looms, swirling clouds and storms moving across its surface like waves on an ocean. Crimson makes a small noise, and they turn, angled inwards towards Sol. There’s a tension and a tug in her gut, and everything seems to stretch like a rubber band pulled just too taught- and she’s gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The jump drive fails just inside the Moon’s orbit, so she’s forced to burn sublight fuel until she can go into Earth’s atmosphere, but she’s content to just gaze down at the familiar-yet-so-strange planet below. In her mind it’s only been… what? A few weeks? Months? Flight, procedure, end, beginning, salvation? Yet she can feel in her body, in the ship around her, in the very fabric of things, the weight of centuries passed over like a rock over water. Crimson alerts her that they’re going in on final approach. She breaks thought and grasps the controls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mountains fly below her, snowcapped, untouched. Ahead on the horizon, she can see it. A glimpse of the upper curve of the Traveler, scarred and sleeping but more alive than ever. A few minutes more and the city from her dreams is ahead, bustling with ships and people and the oh-so-familiar signs of life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A message crackles in on the open frequency, warm and friendly. “Approaching craft, this is Tower Hangar Control, are you receiving?”</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She jams her finger on the button, leaning into the barely functioning comm. “Yessir. I’m a little new around here.”</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a staticky laugh. “I thought as much. You know, your ships pretty beat up, and I’d be happy to fix it up for the kinderguardian.”</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby smiles. “I think I’ll take you up on that, mister…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xiao Long. Taiyang Xiao Long. But unless you’re Jimmy upstairs, you can call me Tai.” He pauses, waiting for an answer. Ruby freezes. The silence drags on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby snaps back in. “Oh! Oh, I’m, uh… I’m here. Sorry, zoned out for a sec there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that's good. So what’s your name, newbie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby pauses, whatever passes for a heart sitting in her throat. “Uh… I think that’s best discussed in person,” She says, pausing, and then leaning back in with another thought. “Maybe over lunch.” She sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On that note…” She says, struggling with the name. “Tai, would you happen to know where I can get some good Ramen?”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ramen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Captain’s head tumbles to the floor, rolling to a stop at Ironwood’s feet. He looks up from his map, eyes tired.</p><p>“Yang, there are less dramatic ways to tell me you completed the bounty.” He rubs his eyes, finger scraping over the cabal shrapnel lodged in his brow from his last field op. It’s over thirty years old.</p><p>Yang laughs as she drops her weight in a chair nearby, robbing a tired-looking technician of their seat. </p><p>“Yeah, I know, but where’s the fun in that?” She leans back, crossing her arms behind her head. “If I don’t at least look like a badass space cowboy, then I’d be doing myself a disservice.” She tips the ancient hat that sits on her head, riddled with bullet holes and plenty of burn marks.</p><p>Ironwood hands a technician a datapad, exchanging it for two more. </p><p>“You up for a few more? There’s a particularly nasty Vex calculation out on Mars that should-” He yawns, breaking his sentence. “-should, uh, probably be aborted sooner rather than later.”</p><p>The titan frowns, almost mockingly, and rests her feet on the war table. “Nah, Jimmy. You’ll get someone else to handle that, I’m sure.” </p><p>He rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Besides,” she says, meeting his eyes. “You know what I’m <em> really </em> after.”</p><p>Ironwood doesn’t even get a chance to sigh.</p><p>“You got any <em> Shadows </em>, señor?”</p><p>Ironwood gives her a look. “Yang, you know Maria’s got the Shadows handled. We don’t need another Guardian going out there and getting herself killed over some family argument.”</p><p>Yang’s face has gone from cocky to frustrated. “James, you know as well as I do-”</p><p>Ironwood puts up his hand, silencing her. “Xiao Long, I’ll let it slide because I understand the situation. Until otherwise specified, I am your commanding officer, and you will refer to me as Commander Ironwood.” Yang opens her mouth to speak, but he continues. “Not James, not Jimmy, not Jimbo, and <em> most certainly </em> ,” Yang struggles to hold back a chuckle when she knows the next one. “Not ‘Captain Jinglepants.’ Now, if I catch wind of you even <em> thinking </em> of going after Raven again, then-”</p><p>A messenger runs up to Ironwood and whispers something in his ear. His brow furrows.</p><p>He turns back to Yang, looking troubled. </p><p>Now she’s worried. It takes a lot to make Ironwood upset. </p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>He shakes his head. “Nothing that concerns you, Xiao Long.” She raises an eyebrow. “I... have to go. But Shipwright Xiao Long and Vanguard Rose request your presence in the Hangar Bay immediately. Something about a…?” He looks back to the messenger, who leans in and whispers a few more words. Ironwood’s face reads confusion. “Family emergency? Whatever the case, I’ll speak to you later.” He straightens up and turns to his right. “Winter! With me.” Winter looks up from her map and follows Ironwood out of the room, leaving Yang alone at the head of the table.</p><p>She waits a moment, before settling into Ironwood’s nigh-unused chair. <em> Oh. Comfy. </em></p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mean to be rude, Miss Xiao Long, but I believe James would not appreciate you sitting in his chair.”</p><p>Yang scrambles out of the chair, turning to face Ozpin, who's somehow appeared behind her in the span of a few seconds. <em>Jeez</em>, she thinks, <em>Warlocks are fuckin' </em><em>weird</em>.</p><p>“Sorry sir, I was just, uh… making sure the cushions were up to scratch. Y’know, worthy of his commander’s holy ass.” She winces internally at a rare comedic failing.</p><p>Ozpin raises an eyebrow with a smirk. “I believe you were also summoned to the Hangar Bay, were you not? A family emergency, I believe.”</p><p>Yang scratches the back of her head. “Yeah… I’ll be on my way then, sir.”</p><p>Ozpin takes a sip of his coffee (At least, Yang assumes it’s coffee, although she’s pretty sure coffee isn’t a different color of the rainbow every other day) as she wheels around and jogs in the direction of the Hangar Bay.</p><hr/><p>When Yang gets to her dad’s usual post, she finds it conspicuously empty. That is, until she uses the tried and true method of following the sound of his ever-present laughter. She turns a corner and finds a junk of a ship, looking like it just made a flight from Pluto on nothing but hope. </p><p> </p><p>Standing to the side of it are Tai, Summer, and… an exo? It’s black and red like a devil, and when it turns and catches her eye with it’s own gleaming silver, only to rush at her, her first instinct is to defend herself.</p><p>Until it opens its mouth and yells her name.</p><p>Then the shock turns to excitement to sheer joy because she knows that voice more than she knows herself and it’s <em> Ruby </em> , and she’s <em> alive </em> and she’s <em> here right now </em>and oh my god she’s-</p><p>“An Exo!” Yang exclaims, after Ruby’s sufficiently enveloped her in the warmest robot hug in history. “You’re an Exo!”</p><p>Ruby detaches herself from Yang and does a little spin. “I know! It’s so cool! Yang, I’m a fucking ROBOT!!”</p><p> </p><p>Needless to say, the day improves from there.</p><hr/><p>When Ruby joined the exo program, one of the things she was most worried about (besides Clovis Bray disclaimer #7597-46B: “Clovis Bray is not responsible or liable if, during the Salvation process, your consciousness is unintentionally decoupled from your body and left drifting in the void”) was the loss of food.</p><p>Turns out, she needn’t have worried. Ramen tastes even better as a robot.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, alright,” says Yang, slurping up another mouthful of noodles. “First things first: where’d you wake up?”</p><p>Ruby shrugs. “Europa. Didn’t make it far off the table before- whatever that was.” </p><p>Yang nods. “Yeah, that’s what me and dad thought. We were actually trying to organize a little expedition to go see if we could find your body, but that’s kinda pointless now. Anyway, I see that sniper on your back and I gotta say, it looks pretty sweet!”</p><p>Ruby unslings Crescent Rose and sets it on the table. “Behold dear sister, my baby.”</p><p>She runs her hands down the barrel and lets out a low whistle. “This is sick, Rubes. And you made this with- what, random science junk?” She chuckles. “We need to get you a foundry rep.”</p><p>Ruby lets out a nervous laugh. “I’ve been here like ten minutes, I think the title of head weapon designer can wait a bit.” Her eyes land on the golden gauntlets on Yang’s wrists. “Anyway, I showed you mine. What d’you got goin’ on?”</p><p>Yang’s eyes light up. “I thought you’d never ask.” She stands up, and turns around with her arms spread to the sides. “Now hit me.”</p><p>“What? No, I’m not gonna-”</p><p>“Ruby, trust me. Just- punch me in the stomach or something.”</p><p>Ruby obliges, and there’s a faint golden flash where her fist impacts.</p><p>Yang smiles, and walks over to the brick wall behind their table. “Now watch this.”</p><p>She turns sucker punches the wall, there’s a bright orange burst of flame, and suddenly the wall has a fist-shaped crater the size of a bowling ball.</p><p>Ruby’s jaw drops. “I’m sorry, what the fuck was that?”</p><p>Yang grins. “Little bit of dismantled Warsat hull infused with a not small amount of Solar Light.” She sits back down to her plate at the table. “Near as we can tell, it takes the damage I receive and deals it back twofold, with the added bonus of a little… shall we say, incendiary pizzazz.”</p><p>Ruby looks impressed and then thoughtful for a moment. “Does the energy save between rezzes?”</p><p>Yang raises an eyebrow. “What?”</p><p>There’s an eyeroll. “I mean, if you took damage and then died, and got rezzed, would the next hit still have the impact?”</p><p>“Uh… yeah, I think it does that. I haven’t really paid attention.”</p><p>Ruby grins, and Yang’s stomach drops. “Yang, how would you like to get hit by an orbital railgun?”</p><p> </p>
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